Rose Colored Glasses

This blog is about my pathetic level of self esteem. Sort of.

I have a pretty good life and marriage. But you know, after giving birth to two children, and living contentedly in married life for more than 10 years, well, I've put on a little weight. OK, a lot of weight. God bless the rose colored glasses that Bart wears when he looks at me. I don't know where he got them or how they work, but I hope they never fall off by accident. He often says "none of us look like we did in college", which is true. (For those of you out there that hit your "awkward" stage in college and look better NOW, hats off to you. But you're in the vast minority, so you don't count in this discussion.) Most everyone I know is at least a little heavier than they were in college. Some have gray hair. Some have less hair. We all pretty much have wrinkles.

But here's the thing: if Bart and I had never met, and we were at the same restaurant with friends, and I walked by, I am 99.9% sure he would not even look at me. Or if he did, he would glance at me and think "lazy and non-athletic." Being a former college diver, Bart is still pretty fit. He runs and works out and plays hockey. If he walked by me in a restaurant, I am 99.9% sure I would look at him and think "hmmm - good looking guy. Wonder if he's married?"

The real unfairness of this assessment is that although I LOOK lazy and non-athletic, I'm actually not. I am fairly athletic. I would guess I am probably more fit than most of America. I can run 3 miles without stopping. Granted, it's not a blistering pace, but I can clear 11-12 minute miles without too much difficulty. I can hop on my bike and ride 12 - 14 miles. I can swim 1200-1500 yards non-stop (or stopping only to take a sip of water.) I have had exactly 2 friends try to go swim laps with me. Neither of them has ever gone with me again. One friend said "damn, girl, how do you DO that?" My point here is that I am fitter than I appear. (or put another way - objects in this mirror, or any mirror actually, appear larger than they are...)

Lucky me, I get to live in the fit capital of the world too. I love Tampa, but when we first moved here, I thought "Great. I am the fattest mom in Tampa." Granted, Chase was only 5 months old then, so at least I had an excuse. But seriously - Tampa has some of the fittest moms I have ever seen. They're all tan and fit in their running shoes and tennis skirts. I can get tan, but I don't know about the rest.

So I do battle every day. I force myself to exercise and I try to watch what I eat. It doesn't seem to do much good, but the battle rages on. Every once in a while Bart drives me so nutty that I want to smack him upside the head. But I can't.

I might knock those pretty colored glasses off his head.